


Drought

by Magnetism_bind



Series: The Kissing!Verse [5]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Bath Sex, Bathing/Washing, Emotional Baggage, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, Fucking, Idiots in Love, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Slow Romance, angsty sex, intimacy issues, too many feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 18:10:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11788638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: Flint starts to notice a change in Silver.





	Drought

Flint’s aware of the mark Silver had left on his neck more than he’s aware of anything else for the next week, which is saying something considering everything he’s been dealing with. It burns into his skin. He touches it at odd moments of the day, fingertips brushing across it subconsciously, before he's even realized he's done it. It feels vivid and obvious and yet no one else on the crew even says a single word about it. Silver had placed it just within the confines of collar that would cover it. 

Flint can't decide if he applauds the man's foresight or if it aggravates for some reason that he can't articulate. 

And then slowly he notices something else.

Silver doesn’t come to his cabin. He doesn’t cast looks Flint’s way on deck, he doesn’t flirt, he doesn’t do…anything.

Nothing since the time Flint had punished him in his cabin and they had shared that moment and still Flint hadn’t been able to offer anything more.

Nothing.

Flint can’t believe it’s taken so long for him to notice. In all fairness he’s been busy with the pursuit of the gold and dealing with getting back to Nassau and all of that. It’s not as though there’s not plenty to occupy his thoughts now that they’re returned. The crew is uneasy and they’re still not sure of where they stand. Now that they’re back in Nassau that’s clearer than ever.

But now he can’t help realizing that things between him and Silver aren’t what they were. Things have changed somehow. When he looks up Silver’s gaze isn’t on him, but on the billowing waves, or the ship, anywhere but him.

All those small smiles – gone. Silver’s smiles are forced and particular now when they appear. They spring to his lips like he knows this is expected of him and he’s merely performing a weary role.

The touches are different in tone too. There are no lingering hands on Flint's arm, no gazing at the inside of Flint’s forearm, until his skin prickles. No teasing nudges of thighs or knees, no casual brushing against Flint’s crotch like it’s pure accident, when they both know it’s absolutely on purpose.

All of this is gone.

Suddenly there’s distance between them like they’ve never touched. And yet, Silver’s unbearably gentle with Flint in the manner of that distance. There is just enough space between them now that leaves Flint hesitant to breach it. Silver’s been so bold, so eager to do that. Now that he’s drawn back, leaving Flint unsure.

*  *  *

The worst is after a night where he has Silver linger in his cabin. They fuck, quickly and heatedly, Flint's hands all over Silver's body like he has a claim to him, like they belong on Silver, and then afterwards Flint rolls over expecting Silver to lie beside him as they’ve done now many a time now, only to find Silver’s already pulling his clothes back on.

“What’re you doing?” Flint mutters, uncertain of everything.

“I’m on watch duty.” Silver offers, a brief smile and he’s out of the cabin before Flint can say anything more.

Flint lies there in a state of shock. Had Silver had just obliged him because he thought Flint had expected it? It certainly feels that way. It harkens back to that first day when Silver thought he’d expected his mouth on him as part of his duties.

Flint half pushes himself up to go after Silver and demand the truth from his own lips. Had he honestly just Flint fuck him because Flint wanted it and nothing more? If Silver hadn't even wanted it then...Flint's not sure he wants to know that.

Instead he stays where he is. Very well. If Silver’s done, Flint can accept that. It matters little. He’s never expected this, whatever the fuck it is, to last forever.

He lies awake in the dark, cataloging all the ways this won’t matter now that it’s ended. The softness of Silver’s breath in the night. The gentle rasp of his curls on Flint’s bare skin, the way his tongue would murmur with eagerness over Flint’s body, breathing over his hips and chest and thighs. The brightness of Silver's smile against the dark curls framing his face, the way his body fits Flint’s so well, how delicious his sweat tastes. How he comes with pants and moans and perfect wanton desire, how blatant he was in this surrender to himself, to the pleasure between the two of them.

How much Flint had enjoyed entwining Silver in this way, how much he’s missed touching. How much he's missed touching Silver, and he didn't know until now.

Flint buries his face in his sleeve with a faint gasp, strangled sob.

_Fuck._

 *  *  *

The next morning the skies are clear and so is Flint’s mind. He’ll keep his focus on the future, the mission and no curly-haired liar of a cook who will distract him anymore.

“Mr. Silver, keep to your post.” He growls with alacrity  as he passes across the deck.

“Captain.” Silver half calls after him but Flint doesn’t turn.

“Fuck.” Silver grits his teeth.

He knows what Flint is doing, though he supposes Flint doesn’t know why he's doing it, because Flint doesn’t know what he knows, which he never will because the last thing Silver needs is the captain understanding what he’s trying to hide. This will be no baring of souls, no idiotic confessions of emotions, not to Silver’s way of thinking.

But this, Flint’s stoniness in retaliation, he hadn’t expected. Silver’s not sure what he _had_ expected, but…not this.

 *  *  *

After the next meeting between Flint, and Degroot and himself he lingers the cabin, half out of habit, half out of curiosity.

“Captain.”

“We have business ashore soon, remember. I’m sure you have duties to see to.” Flint doesn’t look up from his chart.

Silver hesitates. “No, actually.”

Flint does look up then.

They gaze at each other, and the hard set of Flint’s mouth doesn’t give a goddamn inch.

Silver sighs, only slightly audibly. “Very well.”  He gets to his feet. “Goodnight then.”

“Is that it?”  Flint half snarls just as he reaches the door. “Just like that?”

Silver turns and looks back at him. “What?”

“Is this an end to it then?” Flint asks gruffly.

“Would you even be sorry if I said yes?” Silver murmurs.

Flint tilts his head back to look at him, letting Silver feel the weight of his stare, until he has to look away, color heating his neck.

 _Yes_ , Flint thinks, watching the flush spread along Silver’s skin. Obviously he would. Even now he wants to reach out and clasp Silver to him. Instead he keeps his hands where they are on the arms of the chair.

“Yes.” He allows carefully. When Silver finally turns his head back to look at him in surprise, he shrugs. “You were right. It’s good to have something to distract yourself at sea.”

Silver’s mouth twists, wry and bitter. “I hope I was a good distraction.”

He’s out of the cabin before Flint can take it back.

 *  *  *

There’s a hundred things to do, but Flint keeps remembering bits and pieces that Silver’s given him. What he wants with his share of his gold. That look after he’d left Flint’s lap that night. The way his body feels after he comes, all soft and gentle against Flint's frame. All of these haunt Flint long after they have no right occupy space in his brain. 

 *  *  *

At last Flint thinks of something that might make it up, just a fraction. It’s something small, but why not? They’re stuck waiting on that girl being brought out of the fort. He needs something to take his mind off the damn waiting. He can't get drunk this time. It's safer being with Silver, or at least, that's what he tells himself.

He has it all arranged, in a private room in the brothel. It’s the only place he can think of even though the girl who sees to it gives him a knowing look. He presses an extra coin into her hand to keep his secret.

 *  *  *

“Come with me.” He tells Silver, and Silver follows readily enough because that’s what he does, when he wants to. Flint tries not to dwell on that, or the fact that when Silver’s quiet, it means he’s not even trying to argue.

He follows Flint to the brothel and up the back stairs to the room Flint’s paid for and merely watches while Flint closes the door behind them.

“Why exactly are we here?” Silver looks around the room. There’s a bed in the corner, which he assumes is not the reason. There’s also a large wooden tub standing in the center of the room. He doesn’t see anything that warrants Flint’s attention.

“The other day…” Flint hesitates, and straightens up like he’s forcing himself to go through this. “I wanted to apologize for what I said. And in an effort to make it up to you, I thought you might enjoy a bath.”

“A bath.” Silver repeats, though his mind is lingering over the word apologize sounds small and regretful on Flint’s tongue.

“You said you missed them.” Flint points out.

“I’ve said a lot of things.” Silver looks at him curiously. “I had no idea you were even listening.” He looks at the tub then in a new light. It’s full and the water is hot, judging from the steam rising off it. It’s actually big enough to relax in. In spite of himself, his body leans toward it. He wants this. God knows when he’ll get the chance again.

He looks back at Flint uncertainly. “This is really for me?”

“Yes.” Flint nods, encouragingly. 

Silver’s not going to give him the chance to take it back.

He starts undressing and then pauses as Flint turns towards the door. “You’re not staying?” He wants to bite the words back the moment they’re gone. They’ve finished. Flint’s not wanting to share this with him.

Flint turns back, hesitating, as he looks at Silver. “Do you want to me to stay?”

Silver grins faintly. “You made the effort to arrange this bath. You might as well watch, if you want.”

 *  *  *

It’s a challenge. Since Silver had put up the barriers between them again, this is the first crack in the wall.

If Flint walks out of here, Silver may never give him another chance.

Flint shrugs his shoulders a little. “So I’ll stay.” He reaches for the bottle of rum standing on the dresser. He pours a generous amount into the tin cup standing beside it, carrying it over to a chair a few feet away from the tubs and sits. He can do this. He can watch Silver bathe.

Silver simply continues to undress, pulling his clothes off and dropping them on the floor until he’s naked.

Flint takes a long sip of rum, letting it roll over his tongue as he gazes at Silver. It hasn’t even been that long since Flint last saw him nude and yet he still can’t tear his eyes away from him. Has Silver’s back always been so stiff with tension? Have his hips always been so lithe and bitable? How has Flint never bitten his hips enough? He can't remember. 

His nipples are delectable and Flint knows exactly how they’d feel under his lips and teeth. It’s fucking torture sitting here and knowing he can’t put his mouth on Silver’s body.

Silver steps into the bath and slowly sinks down into the water, letting his limbs sprawl open and lazy.

He lets out a sound of pure contentment. “Now that is worth waiting for.” He murmurs, his eyes slipping closed. “This feels amazing.”

Flint can imagine it. He imagines how the heated water feels trailing over Silver’s naked skin, caressing his legs, and between his thighs. The soft lapping of the bath across his stomach, drifting leisurely over his chest. Silver slides back further and the water slaps lazily up against his nipples. Flint bites back a moan at the sight.

“If this is the result of you listening to me,” Silver murmurs, eyes still closed. “I’ll have to talk more.”

He reaches for the cloth draped over the side of the bath, dipping it into the water before bringing it up to scrub at the back of his neck. He lets out a soft sigh as he washes along his neck and along the curve of his shoulder.

Flint stretches out slightly, letting himself lean back in the chair. If he has to be in agony, there’s no reason he can’t be comfortable.

This would be different if he were allowed to still touch Silver. Every last thing would be different. He would have moved to stand behind Silver by now, drinking in the sight of Silver’s body reclining in the bath. He’d lean down, reaching for the cloth, bringing it dripping over Silver’s body to wash over his back and Silver would lean forward, daring him, and Flint would chase that dare, dipping lower with the cloth, teasing Silver between his cheeks. The tub isn’t big enough for the both of them, but he imagines holding Silver in his arms, wet and placid, reaching up to brush his mouth…

Flint blinks and stares down at his rum. That’s where it always ends. The point he can’t get past; the point he wants the most. He drains his rum and reaches for the bottle to pour more.

“What are you thinking?”

Silver’s voice breaks through the haze. Flint looks up, blinking at the intrusion. “Do you truly want to know?” Surely Silver has an inkling of the design of his thoughts here in this room. He wouldn’t have asked him to stay if he hadn’t.

Silver leans back, resting an arm on either side of the tub. “I asked, didn’t I?”

He seems to mean it so Flint considers his answer as he takes a long drink of rum.

“I’m thinking of all the things wasted in life and what’s left afterwards.” Flint says softly. “And how one has the brief chance to appreciate the rare pleasures one has, instead of dwelling on other things…” At that point he's only half talking to Silver, course, and they both know that.

Silver brushes the cloth over his chest, considering this. “Are you saying you have regrets?” He drags the cloth down between his nipples all the way to his navel, and then lower.

Flint licks his lips slowly, following that cloth with hungry eyes. “Every man has regrets.”

He has no right to want this; he wants it all the more.

His gaze skitters down Silver’s bare chest like a coltish horse, afraid of being caught and held. Silver raises the cloth again, letting the water drip down his skin as he washes himself.

“Do you miss it?” Silver asks almost off-handedly.

Flint doesn’t have to ask what he means. _It._ The heat between them, all the times their bodies have met and joined and fell apart again afterwards. Every time Silver let him be so close and then still so far away. Every time Flint has let him in and savored the touch of Silver’s body against his. Every time they were matched perfectly, body and soul, and Flint hadn’t even realized while it was happening.

 _Yes_ , Flint thinks, and _no_. It’s not the sex that he misses; it’s Silver. He’s grown used to the grief of missing Thomas. It’s a coat he never takes off. It’s different missing Silver when he’s right there and Flint simply knows he can’t touch him anymore. It’s different wanting someone who’s right there, someone he still speak to.

“I miss you.” He says softly, not looking at Silver.

The room is still and he still doesn’t look at Silver.

His skin is too hot and he can’t raise his head to face Silver.

But Silver doesn’t speak and the silence stretches out between them vast as the sea and finally Flint’s forced to look up at him. Silver’s just sitting there in the tub with a strange expression on his face, like there’s a piece of a puzzle missing that Flint doesn’t know yet. A secret he’s not privy to and didn’t know existed until now, which is unfathomable because he knows Silver possesses many secrets. What’s the existence of one more?

“I should go.” Flint rises and moves towards the door. The room is too close; he can’t keep looking away from Silver, he can’t stop looking at him. Silver is so naked under that bare level of water and it’s all he can do to keep from reaching for him.

“I don’t want you to go.” Silver’s voice is small and soft, making Flint turn back almost before he knows it.

“What do you want then?”

“I want you to touch me again.” Silver murmurs, his eyes half closed, like he knows what it means to admit to this. Flint’s heart aches for that admission even while it rejoices. Silver still wants him; Flint's not lost in the dark after all, alone without someone to hold him.

“Are you sure?”

Silver opens his eyes and looks up at him. “Yes.”  

Flint walks over and simply draws Silver up from the tub, water dripping down his torso as he does. 

“Are you sure?” He asks again, not letting himself gaze down the expanse of Silver’s wet form, not yet, not until Silver gives him permission to want that again, to crush that barrier.

“Up against the wall.” Silver murmurs. “Like the first time.”

“I want to see your face.” Flint quotes, the memory making his blood race.

Silver grins.

Flint lifts him, bringing him out of the tub and across the room to lean against a wall. Silver’s naked and tantalizing and Flint has never been so hard in his life.

Water drips down Silver’s lithe body like he’s an offering from the sea.

In spite of Flint saying he wanted to see his face, Silver turns and faces the wall like it’s expected. And Flint follows the pattern of that first time, half because why not, and half because of Silver’s luscious body offered to him is a joy to be behold.

Flint grazes his teeth over his shoulder, licking down the curve of his spine. Having Silver’s body beneath his hands once more is a gift. When he’d thought they were done, he’d regretted not touching Silver more. Why had his hands ever stopped straying over his knee, or across his shoulder, his groin, his cock, his face? Why hadn’t he taken advantage of the welcome those touches would find when he had the chance?

He sinks to his knees and sets his teeth to Silver’s hipbone and then across one luscious cheek, licking and nipping and making sure his presence would be remembered the following day.

 Silver groans into the wall. “I thought you were going to fuck me.”

“Oh I intend to thoroughly fuck you.” Flint assures him.

He rises to his feet and scoops a handful of curls through his fingers, drawing Silver up on the tips of his toes to avoid being yanked tightly.

“Look at you.” Flint murmurs. His cock’s hard in his breeches at the sight of Silver, at the feel of him under his fingertips, at the sense of being close within each.

“Like what you see?” Silver whispers.

Flint presses his still-covered cock against the cleft of Silver's ass, letting Silver feel it. “What do you think?”

“I think that feels very promising.”

Flint’s snort erupts into laughter, loving the way Silver can make him laugh at this moment. He presses harder against Silver’s naked form, sucking a deep mark into his neck. Silver shudders helplessly all along his body, his buttocks pressing back against Flint’s cock with no hint of subterfuge.

“Please.”

“What do you need?” Flint whispers into his skin.

“I need you inside me.” Silver says and the words seem to dance on the night air itself, right into Flint’s mouth. He can taste them on his tongue, the light feel of their touch along his lips, a caress from Silver’s mouth to his own, still separated by the distance between them.

Flint sighs into that chasm.

Never has it been so hard to hold himself back from claiming Silver’s lips. Would it be such a mistake to allow him in? What is he waiting for?

Even now he’s not sure.

But Silver’s still letting him in without it and he won’t let this chance slip by.

He slides his hands down Silver’s body, turning him so Silver's back is against the wall, gripping him by the hips, allowing himself a long look down Silver’s front, drinking in the full sight of that thick, flushed cock against Silver’s belly.

“Stay there.” Flint presses his fingers into Silver’s hips meaningfully and he looks around the room. It’s a brothel. There has to be oil.

“Try the dresser.” Silver’s voice is amused and Flint rolls his eyes before following his suggestion. There’s oil in the top drawer of course. He takes it out.

Silver’s still leaning against the wall, waiting for him.

Flint pours some oil in his palm and goes back to him. “Spread your legs.”

Silver does, tilting his head back, just watching him as Flint presses two slicked fingers inside him. Silver hisses slightly but offers nothing more than that. Flint presses tightly, seeking just what he wants and Silver gasps, arching up.

“You, _fuck_.”

Flint grins. He curls his fingers tightly inside him, watching Silver arch and pant.

“Are you ready for me?” He whispers.

“I’m always ready for you.” Silver’s response is so immediate Flint takes it simply at face value, and then, as his finger slip out of Silver, he thinks about it. Silver’s _ready_ for him, Silver _wants_ him, and just maybe Silver can handle the burden of being at his side. Time will only tell.

Flint undoes his breeches with unsteady fingers, Silver’s ready for him, whatever Flint throws at him, and draws himself out.

He positions himself, Silver’s ready for him, and thrusts in, Silver sinking down immediately upon his length, taking Flint in. The burn is quick and tight and Silver’s pressed close around him, all arms around Flint’s neck, legs wrapped around his hips. Heat and sweat and lust, Silver’s mouth on his neck, sucking needily against his sweat-covered skin.

Flint doesn’t have the heart to tell him no. He's not sure he even wants to.

He braces himself with one hand against the wall and thrusts.

Silver makes a stuttering, half cry and Flint pauses.

“Don’t stop.” Silver’s fingers claw at his back. “Please.”

Flint buries his face in Silver’s curls and answers him with another hard thrust.

There are no more words, only their bodies moving against the wall. The grip of Silver’s body wrapped around his, Silver’s sweat mingled with his. Silver’s breath on his skin. Flint’s conscious of where Silver’s mouth is at all times, how easy it would be to lean down and capture it with his.

Silver’s hands grip his back tighter and his thrusts slow, making every single one count, dragging it out until Silver’s panting against him.

“Please, please, fuck, please.” His head arches back against the wall and Flint takes the opportunity to sink his teeth into Silver’s neck, making him moan.

He keeps thrusting, rocking his hips steadily until Silver shudders helplessly, clenching tightly around him. His cock spills across Flint’s chest and stomach and Flint feels a curious thrill at the feel of Silver’s spend sliding down his shirt, wet and sticky.

Silver slumps against him. “Fuck.” He murmurs. “I thought I’d outlast you this time.”

Flint grins. He presses his hips in a subtle, not at all subtle fashion, and Silver exhales shakily.

“Do you want me to come inside you?” Flint asks.

Silver licks his lips and Flint’s mesmerized by the sight and then he’s lost even more when Silver opens his eyes and looks straight at him. “I want nothing more.”

Flint grips him even harder by the hips, lifting his body with renewed lust. His hips move with renewed vigor, fucking Silver up against the wall.

Silver gasps as Flint just keeps fucking into him, and then it simply dissolves into joyous laughter. Flint’s almost startled by the sound of it, but it’s definitely pure enjoyment spilling helplessly from Silver’s lips. And somehow that sound, unprompted and unfeigned in any regard, sends Flint over the edge. He presses his face into Silver’s curls as he comes, breathing in the scent of him, salty and free like the sea itself.

“Fuck.” Silver murmurs softly, resting his head against Flint’s shoulder.

Without intending to, Flint lifts him. He carries Silver over to the bed and lays him down, gazing down at him as he slips out of him. 

Silver stares up at him with a look that Flint can’t begin to interpret, all dark curls and bare skin.

“Should we go…” Silver hesitates.

“I paid for the night.” Flint says. “Thought we might as well enjoy the chance to sleep ashore in a real bed.”

The smile Silver gives him makes his heart burst.

 *  *  *

Flint fetches the washcloth from the bath and gives it to Silver to wash with while he undresses.

By the time he’s done, Silver’s already lying in bed, waiting for him under the sheets.

Flint wipes the cloth perfunctorily over his cock and tosses it aside before climbing in under the sheets and sliding his body against Silver's.

Silver doesn’t ask for a kiss and Flint feels a pang in his chest that he’s accepted the way things are so easily now. He smooths his hand over Silver’s hip, drawing him close and burying his face in those curls once more.

“I missed you too.” Silver murmurs softly, like he’s half asleep already.

And then he sighs, and the sound does something to Flint’s heart. It’s wistful and forlorn and how does Silver sound so heartbroken when he’s the one who stopped it in the first place?

Why had he done that if he still wanted Flint?

Flint lies there and then, as Silver turns his head and sighs once more into the pillow, the understanding of that sound washes over him.

 _He loves you,_ the voice that sounds suspiciously like Thomas tells him, and Flint can’t argue with it, because he knows it to be true.


End file.
